


The Crown

by Animelover007



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28986102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Animelover007/pseuds/Animelover007
Summary: Soooooooooo whilst I have been dying from all my degree work I thought I'd write this as an almost music prompt. I watched The Crown on Netflix, binged the entire thing and here we are. I wrote this piece whilst listening to "Your Majesty" by Rupert Gregson-Williams. You can listen to the track whilst you read this if you want to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> None of the pictures in this work are mine I found them on Pinterest, they are just meant as a reference for my characters and clothes being worn. The only thing that is mine is the story lmfao. Please be kind.

The Crown

The entire world had their cameras poised on the grand wooden doors to the Apostles Church. The intricate detail from a time forgotten was the sight many would see for the next three or four hours. Hundreds of thousands of people lined the streets as they began to bet and place money down. The only betting that was allowed to happen in the kingdom officially, was when a new Monarch of Zerus was being crowned. It was a sacred ritual that many gathered to with great excitement. The week-long holiday was also an added benefit, but you wouldn’t hear anyone mention this in public.

“Place your bets here Ladies and Gentlemen! Place your bets here!” were the various shouts up and down the stalls.

Raking in an unfair amount of money from foreigners and those who lived on the island alike. The chosen colours of the new Monarch could mean a prosperous new life or the degradation of livelihood. It was within everyone’s business to plan for their future monarch. The colours were all the nation based everything on when the time came. It also happened to be the only event where flocks of people came to the capital. It benefitted most and very rarely caused concern for the majority. The only people out of luck were the various guards that had to be called in for this event and the planners/organisers. Though this time things were different. The late Queen Forna had been the person to establish contact with people from the various communities around the world.

  
The most noticeable attraction had been from the “Western” countries who had sent more than enough spies, diplomats and ambassadors to their tiny island. Why? Well that was because Zerus is the only known place on the planet to still have the practicing ability to produce magic. Most saw this ability as something to be harboured and taken for their own selfish needs, but thankfully any attempt so far had been completely detrimental to their own bank accounts. The island had a plethora of hidden tricks and plights that had prevented people from landing and invading. Wind magic, electromagnetic waves and the strategically placed volcano made flying and bombing practically impossible. Long range missiles were also taken care of by the Goddess, Ahadia, herself. It was the ultimate place to live and to be happy. Long life here wasn’t uncommon, most living well into their 110’s. Citizens all had the miraculous ability to live long and fruitful life and it was heavily scrutinised by those in more wealthy countries. The secret would never be revealed though as the person who held the crown was the only one who would know.

The only person who allowed anywhere near the heir in line to the throne was the Pope herself. It would be here that Arasil, Crown Prince to Zerus, would choose his uniform, his reginal name and colours. The most important factor was that he would be forcibly grown into his adult body in the span of ten minutes or less.

The Pope offered her arm to him, breaking him from his train of thought, and walked him into the Room of Voices. The room was completely sealed. The dark room held no furniture and the darkness within was so pitch black that if there hadn’t been a floor Arasil would have assumed he was falling into hell itself. Arasil had done plenty of lessons on this specific room by his own mother. The last things she would ever discuss with him before she had died two months ago. Here he would be able to communicate to voices of the past. His entire family tree contained into one spiritual room that only he was allowed inside. The Pope bowed as she retreated out of the room and locked the door.  
Walking in the room a little and fumbling his way to where he thought was the centre of the room, he stopped and breathed to even his thundering heart. A seal began to glow a faint blue hue on the floor. The swirls and lines creating the crest his mother had held during her reign. Slowly he stepped onto the seal and waited for something to happen. A couple of seconds later he felt the distinct warmth his mother used to give him when she hugged him. Slowly her apparition appeared in front of him, smiling happily.

“My dear boy.”

“Hi mama.” He couldn’t help but tear up at seeing her there. He had missed her in the three months since she had died. She gently allowed her hand to caress his face before taking a more stern approach.

“You remember the incantation I taught you?”

“Yes Ma’am.” He took a deep breath and began to recite the incantation to start the process. It was here that the most terrible pain engulfed his body, rendering him incapable of being able to process the pain much less scream about it. He wasn’t aware just how much time had passed between the start and the finish. When it finally stopped and he could actually feel everything again and process his surroundings, he was on the ground. The crest that would have fit his 11 year old body had grown more than a foot and a quarter. Using his hands to feel the outline and shape of his body revealed that the training he had done had translated perfectly to the image he wanted. Powerfully built but not grossly muscled. Nothing to indicate abs had come through, thank god for that, and everything else including his feet he had almost pin-pointed exactly. Other endowments had thankfully been normal. The only abnormality, if you could call it that, was a slightly girthier appendage. Nothing else besides a normal healthy young man in his twenties. The beard was not a welcome sight though but he would wear it until his coronation was done though.

“Quensia! Forna, please tell me in all honesty who did you bed? It wasn’t a God was it?”

His grandmother gasped whilst floating all around the place eyeing Arasil up and down.

“It was no one special. He wasn’t even that good looking. To be honest with you, I was too drunk to notice. It wasn’t as if I had to see the man again. We just went ahead and did it and that was that.”

“Do you think this could be the blessing Queen Torra mentioned?” His great-grandmother Tena thought aloud.

“Is he the Astralcloud?” someone piped up further in the room. From voice alone he assumed it was someone a little further removed from any of his immediate relatives here. When the apparition came into focus he was surprised by who he saw. It was in fact Maris, the very first Queen of Dorth. She looked at Arasil. Well it was more like looking into him than looking at him. She seemed to come to an answer after a few brief seconds whilst his mother argued with her grandmother.

“Ladies. He is the Astralcloud. Look.” Just as she motioned back to him his royal clothes started to materialise onto his body. He looked down as the clothing changed but what would be the most noticeable point to everyone, spirit or otherwise, he had no specific colour scheme like the other Queens of time past. His uniform was black, royal blue and had trim of bright gold. His cloak was bright royal blue and casted with millions of tiny gold dots which resembled constellations. Before he could say anything, a knock came from the door.

“Your majesty, is everything alright?” The Pope called out. Her concern evident.

“I’m fine.” He said before realising how deep his voice was. It shocked him and clearly The Pope too who backed away from the door quickly. Standing up slowly he tried to quickly get accustomed to his taller and broader body. It felt weird but he didn’t really have much time to get fully accustomed. He was sure that he had spent too long in the room and people would be getting nervous if he spent anymore time here. The light from outside the door jar was the only thing that kept him from bumping into any of the walls.

“Arasil.” His mother called out. The apparitions were beginning to fade as he moved away from the seal on the ground.

“Good luck.”

She grinned before disappearing into a puff of smoke. The seal vanished and the dim light in the room descended the room back to pitch black. He fumbled his way to the door and his hand engaged with the handle. Just before he opened, the crowds outside were so loud he wondered if they were actually safe. The Pope must have sent a smoke signal to those waiting in the Cathedral across the street and those waiting outside.

Light spilled into the room from the outside and he saw The Pope standing with her head bowed, waiting respectfully near the crown. She raised her head and he could visibly see her eyes bulge out of their sockets.

“Trust me I am just as surprised as you are.” He told her and knelt in front of her.

She proceeded to anoint him and do the whole ceremony in the witnessing of his spiritual ancestors. Once she was finished she held her arm out and helped him off the ground, steadying him when he tilted a little bit.

“We’ve got a bit of a walk down to the main church so you can get used to your new body. We can go slow if you need more time to adjust.”

“Perfect. The long legs are tripping me out. That and my new centre of balance. Any tips?”

“Your mother put her arms out to the side to help her balance other than that it’s all just practice.” The Pope said before holding open the first door to their first obstacle. Stairs. Lots of them. Thankfully there was a bannister for help as he descended.

“I don’t suppose you’ve picked a reginal name for yourself have you?” She asked him as they got to the last round of steps.

“Ezrick.”

“A very bold choice might I say your Majesty.”

“Yep. I have a feeling that this will be the age of new discoveries. Thought it would be more fitting to name myself that way.”

“Of course sire.”

When he rounded the corner to the last step he was greeted with a TV showing the news of the Capital. How the cameras panned the waiting crowds and the commentary of the reporters. There were thousands more people in the streets now than when he first went in and it was now proving difficult to see anyone’s faces clearly.

“Do they seem positive at all?” He asked as The Pope adjusted her robes and hat.

“They seem to be responding well to your coronation. A little concerned over the length of time, though when you emerge from these doors they will understand why?”

“Then let’s get this party started then. Shall we?” He asked and motioned to the closed door. The last obstacle for this part of the journey.

End of Chapter 1


	2. Meeting the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zerus and the Royal Family meet their new King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I want to add that I do not own any of the images in this story. The only thing original to this is the story and characters I am creating.

Both Arasil and The Pope stepped out of the stairwell and into the inner court room. The tall, illuminated windows bathed the entire room in a variety of colours, mostly warm colours where the throne was sat and cooler towards the back. Most of the room consisted of dark wooden furniture. This was decorated with plenty of colour and tones. Each pew of seats was denoted with animals, saints, God's and Goddesses depending on what the seat was commissioned to. Though colour really wasn't a factor in this space. It was like an artist decided to have a field day and completely forget they were being put into a royal house space. Arasil liked this space the most. The diversity was what made it work. If the space had been some boring dark wood or stone he suspected no one would have appreciated the space nearly as much. Looking at the massive white stone columns rose to the arched ceiling. Which he had to remind himself, were just as detailed as the pews in front of him.

The room was only meant to hold 100 people at its maximum, though in this age the royal family numbered well into 300 occupants. So this year only Arasil's immediate family had been allowed in. Cousins twice removed or more would be waiting in the Cathedral across the way. His immediate family had the privilege to see their King before any of the soldiers or common folk.

20 people sat in the small room, talking amongst themselves, in a room that had only recently been modernised. Comfy couches, heaters, fans and plenty of food had been set up for them all. The younger children were currently playing with a variety of games and toys, probably mercifully left by the butlers, and were engrossed with blasting zombie men in the head. Arasil's oldest cousin, Varsil, was one of those people who seemed interested and wanted to join in but was pretending not to look. Funny considering the man was a known archer and was nearly always itching for a fight or show off his prowess in front of people who wee willing.

Most of the adults and the rest of his family, however, tended to keep the TV on. They liked listening to the other countries that made commentary but it gave them an undisputed look into the other countries and their image of Zerus. Sometimes the news was nice, other times it was blatant criticism. though they all had one thing in common and that was who on Earth were they? The current reporter on the screen was from somewhere called "Chile" if Arasil was recalling correctly. From a general standpoint and not knowing the language the reporters seemed to be treating them kindly. Even going as far as comparing him with a couple of their Gods and Goddesses.

When The Pope cleared her throat everyone turned to the door. They scrambled from the couches to the pews near the throne and stood assembled from the most important to the least important. His younger sister was first, followed by his great aunt, her children then his other aunts and one uncle with their children following in a suitable position in age order.

“I hereby decree that by the blessing of Queen Maris, Arasil Elo Zamos Firnhall is your new King. He shall be henceforth known under his new reginal name as King Ezrick. You may proceed to give your loyalty.” The Pope finished her small statement and Arasil walked to the standing platform. The light from the mid-sun warmed him from the inside as he settled himself on the oldest and intact throne in the Kingdom. The warmth spread and eased him and his steadily rising nerves.

He instantly heard the audible gasps from some and saw shocked open mouths from most of the others. It was a sight to see. It was something he didn’t think would be as amusing. His transformation was very clearly a Settling on the raised platform each member one by one pledged their allegiance to him. He sensed animosity from one of his younger cousins but he was so far down the list of heirs it would likely not result in anything worrisome.

Arasil watched his younger sister, Amriel, approach with the grace their own mother had possessed. She was equally as endowed in heritage as he was.

Nothing really held her back from the pompous display of "heritage" and she merely did what she wanted, to a degree. She respectfully did with the ceremony and kissed his cheek before she stood right at his side. Everyone knew that she was going to be his right hand woman, wether others liked it or not. Arasil knew however that she was more than that, she was his best friend. Not that it would ever be established outside of closed doors. His great-aunt walked up and swore her allegiance without much fuss before she made her exit out of the room and waited for one of her children.

The list went on until the problematic cousin, Etair, came along. The walk she did was slow. Deliberate to keep attention solely on herself for as long as possible. Amriel was already itching to fight with the woman but held back all her intentions when The Pope barked her order. 

"We do not have all day your highness. A bit quicker if you would." Etair realising she was pushing her luck just a bit sped up and arrived at Arasil's throne. 

"I offer my services to you your Majesty." She took his hand and gently kissed, not forgetting to dig her fingers into the skin of palm as a signal of her unhappiness. Hindsight would have been a beautiful thing in this moment for Arasil, but he would later regret letting his decision to safely wave her away. 

The air around Etair changed. She looked Arasil square in the eyes and the silent promise of death unshakeable from her eyes. If she had been armed in this moment she probably would have been able to defeat him and his sister before anyone got to the throne. Yet she thankfully wasn't. Nothing was more shocking to the siblings than witnessing a cousin, ruled by jealousy, walk away from their clutches with a poised swagger. 

"I think we need to keep things moving don't you?" Amriel said. She offered her arm to her brother and helped Arasil walk to the next set of doors. 

A small row of steps again and they were entering the main hall of the church. The neat rows of Palace guards and the various squadrons of Air, Naval and Army forces standing stock still at attention. It was a sight to see them all there and acting so diligent and honoured to be there. Not like they had done that for him when he was growing up. Though the loyalty that these soldiers had to the crown was the one of the reasons why they were still here. Unquestionable loyalty and a fierce blood-thirst to stop whoever may cause harm to the one who wore the crown. 

The three women standing as the Generals of his forces saluted, dignified and wholly able to decimate an entire army no matter where they were. Arasil had only met them once before this, on his mother's death bed where they had all promised to keep him safe. His mother's last wish before she died the next morning. The air around them was electrifying and dangerous. Opposing personalities that very rarely met unless there were dire needs to be together. Rumour has it that once a very long time ago the trio had been best friends but a mission had gone wrong. They had never spoken about the details and they had gone their separate ways, each equally as formidable as her foes. 

They all stepped forward in turn and pledging their allegiance, their soldiers resounding in a quick loud succession afterwards. Genral Bartona and her Navy fleet left first. She was swiftly followed out by General Lunar and the Airforce after. Genral Iftu was last and paid particular attention to her own protégée, Amriel. The latter nodded her head to her mentor, who left without much of a word. As they all left to walk down the steps leading down from the Apostles Church it happened. Their armour that had graced his mother’s colours began fading from the light baby blue hue to black and royal blue. It was clear that the soldiers had been expecting a different colour to come out. Some seemed disappointed. The crowd bellowed in excitement at the change. People racing back and forth to hand out winnings and losses. Stands began selling out like hotcakes with the merchandise representing the new colours.

He would prove them all wrong. He would not let people disregard him just because he seemed weak to them. This included the other nations who would be looking down on him or want to invade his precious country.

20 personal guards were left in the hall. His own personal guard. They would walk him to and from his activities across the castle as well as being the only ones allowed to be in the personal wing. He knew them all by face and would be the one personally responsible for picking any of the future guards he had. They were the best of the best. To be one of the guards or to even be chosen for the position they needed to have several recommendations from any one of the Generals. They needed to be scrutinised through a year long training regime, often resulting in practice rounds to the death. They needed to have above average scores in all their academic studies as well as being visibly fit for the job. It was the hardest job and not many potential candidates. If he lost even one guard he was placing a burden on the other 19 men and women protecting him. No unnecessary action so that he could make sure their lives were just as easy as his job. 

Making the protective circle around him they began their descent to the Cathedral. His sister walked first ahead of the group, being mindful of the space she kept between the guards and the crowd. Looking every so often behind her. She led with her head held high and the confidence made her regal. The crowd were hollering and screaming as they saw him walking. He allowed himself to wave and smile. Trying to appear collected and calm. 

The reporters who had been patiently waiting outside turned when they found the doors and the royal family being escorted by the other guards. They commented erratically on the colour scheme that had appeared and the cameras eventually honed in on him.

“Well there you have it Ladies and Gentlemen. The newly appointed King is confidently walking out of the Apostles Church and heading straight into his own wedding. I am sure that whatever happens in these next few moments will be cemented into the History books. Now if we run through potential candidates for his Majesty we can try to make a guess depending on his colours now. Instantly out of the batting will be those who have assigned themselves to Green or Pink colours as well as the secondary characteristics of Red and Orange. Candidates of Yellow, Purple, White, Blue or Black will be able to have a fighting chance of keeping his Majesty’s eye. Though there are very little candidates in these categories. If the King does not find a partner in these levels he is allowed to have a pick from the other colours. If no candidate is chosen from the bunch today then the floor is open to any relevant female partner that is above a certain station in the Kingdom or further afield. We now direct our attention to the inside of the Cathedral, where our reporter Donver Pascaleis is waiting.” Said one American News reporter who passed the baton over to his counterpart waiting in the Cathedral itself.

End of Chapter 2


End file.
